


Rain Check

by grumblebee



Series: Shimmer Me This [2]
Category: Turn - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Cute Date, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rubbing, sequel to These Kind of Dreams, the best way to end a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebee/pseuds/grumblebee
Summary: The sequel to These Kind of Dreams. Ben and George go on their first date after their steamy last dance at the strip club. Museum and coffee is all well and good, until rain drives their activities inside.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to "These Kind of Dreams". We pick up on Ben and George's first date! For their meeting and first dances, check out the original fic.

Ben stood outside the cafe anxiously, hands shoved into his pockets where they nervously shredded what little paper and tissue he found there. George had said 11, right? He checked his phone, the number he took from George at the club only last weekend. 

_ [11 am, at the little cafe on second ave?] _

True, it was only 10:45, and Ben had actually gotten there at 10:20 to make sure this place was legit, but it did nothing to quell his nerves. This was a  _ date.  _ Not some run in at the market, nor their usual routine at the club. Ben hardly knew how to present himself. He opted for a thick gray sweater, one that had been gifted to him as a back to school wardrobe update. Underneath was a light blue button down, and dark jeans. This was just coffee, right? And a museum? He hoped he didn't look too eager to please.

“Ben!”

Ben whirled around. George trotted the last few steps to meet with him, cheeks pink. “You're early” he said, a little out of breath. 

“You too!” Ben chimed back, opening the door to the cafe. “Plenty of seats. Let's grab one.” 

Inside was quaint, with the rich smell of coffee perking Ben up as they approached the counter. Their orders were placed quickly; vanilla hazelnut tea for Ben, dark hot chocolate for George. George paid, and though Ben insisted he should chip in, his cheeks flushed as he realized that most of the cash stuffing his wallet  _ was _ George’s anyway. So George paid. 

It was, in all honesty, delightful. Ben admired the way George spoke outside of the club. His voice was deep and rich, welling up from his chest. It had the potential to be powerful,  _ was _ powerful--as Ben knew from their nights shouting over the thumping music at the club. But here it was softer. A gentle current Ben didn't mind drifting away in. He looked  _ good. _ Farmer’s Market George was nothing like coffee and a museum George. He too wore a button down, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He didn't catch a chill easy. The draft inside the cafe didn't phase him, and his light jacket hung off the back of the chair. That didn't matter much to Ben, who was enjoying dragging his gaze down the line of his forearms to those hands. Big strong hands. Ones he dreamt of every night after kicking off his heels and rolling into bed. 

“Would you like to try?” George asked, offering up his cup of hot chocolate. Ben had stupidly fumbled into this conversation, teasing George about his quest for a perfect hot chocolate.  _ This one _ apparently, was decadent. Ben took a sip, tongue running over his lip to catch a few stray drops. He missed one, feeling it bead against his lower lip and fall. It would have gone straight to the neat blue of his shirt had George not intercepted, one thumb brushing the drop away.

“Sorry, it's just...your shirt” he said, letting his thumb linger a half second too long. Ben flushed.

“I don't mind.” 

They stumbled out of that moment and on with their talk. Ben’s foot jiggled under the table, nerves already prickling. He hated his past self for setting the pace so slow. Just a week ago he was writhing naked in his lap in the club, and stupidly he decided  _ coffee _ and then a  _ whole day _ at the museum. Not that the company wasn't fantastic, but Ben had twisted his wrist to no end thinking about the delicious after activities of their date. It made his gut clench every time George smiled just the right way, or casually brushed him with his fingers. 

It was noon by the time they got to the museum, and yet again Ben insisted on paying. It was courteously declined, George handing his card over before Ben could pull out his wallet. It was relatively quiet for a Saturday, and Ben found himself enjoying having the museum to themselves. Their shoes clacked against the shiny tile, echoing back off the walls lined with lush oil paintings. They kept their voices hushed, choosing to lean into one another to whisper back and forth about the brushwork. 

“This one is fantastic” George breathed, edging closer to admire the details. Ben leaned in as well. He’d seen rococo art in books, and pictures, but up close it was that much more lavish. Wonderfully whimsical, with the slight flirty charge that seemed to underscore this outing. Ben shivered as George’s hand found his lower back, giving him a gentle nudge forward to examine the painting. George was marveling over the brushwork, and dappling into a little history about art at the time. Ben listened as best he could, with a few minor distractions.

“...this sort of flirtatious, whimsical scene…”

Hand on his lower back.

“...subtle eroticism that was popular amongst the court…”

Thumb bushing just so over his spine.

“...stark contrast to the reality of France’s citizens outside Versailles…” 

My god, was he still  _ talking? _

Indeed he was. Charming  _ and _ knowledgeable, Ben was smitten. Curiously, he stepped back, letting George’s palm lay flat against his back. Then, subtly, Ben let the back of his knuckles graze the front of George’s pants as his hand returned to his side.

“...commissions and tastes changing as the American Re---” Stopped cold. It took all his strength not to grin as he looked up at George, eyes wide and innocent. George cleared his throat, diverting his eyes back to the painting where he rushed the last few thoughts on the piece. 

Ben had spent hours in a museum before, but with George it felt like mere minutes. The conversation was light and engaging. They eventually left to grab a bite, choosing to walk with their sandwiches down the street. And then they kept walking. Further and further downtown, where the buildings grew higher and the crowd became dense. They linked arms, determined not to let a crowd interrupt their conversation. 

The day had turned bleak, the skies closing up under a blanket of dark gray clouds. If Ben were smarter, he'd have noticed the signs of impending rain. Not even the flash of lighting grabbed his attention until the street was a scrambling mess of people looking for cover from the torrential downpour. 

George pulled him close, pressing Ben up against him as he called a cab from under a cramped little awning. Ben felt a pang of disappointment. Rained out. They would have had a whole day left, and Ben knew exactly what he wanted to do. A little dinner, more talking over drinks, and then the courage to run his hand up George’s leg under the table and  _ beg  _ to be somewhere alone. Now he'd be put in a cab, with nothing more than a friendly kiss goodbye.

“That's settled, then. Five minutes.” George said, arms dropping to wrap around Ben’s waist. Ben sighed slightly, leaning back into his embrace.

“Where to?” He asked out of habit. This date was over, but better to nip this in the bud before it really crushed him.

“Home.” George said. Ben perked up. Home. Something about the way George said it sounded...playful. Before Ben could say another word, George pressed his lips just behind the shell of his ear. “I hope you don't mind. My place is closer.” A shiver ran down his spine. Mind? Fuck this couldn't have happened quick enough. Ben let out a small whimper of agreement, pressing himself closer to George, feeling something familiar pressing firm against his ass. 

That car couldn't come fast enough.

The prick of desire in Ben’s stomach grew into a fluttering mess as they piled into the cab, George pressed close to him, one strong hand on his knee. With the divide closed, and the driver wearily looking at the road, Ben found himself helpless at George’s fingertips. The hand on his knee rose up his leg, dropping between his thighs subtly. Ben squeezed his legs shut, cheeks flushed as George tickled his inner thigh teasingly.  _ Fuck him _ , Ben’s brain screamed.  _ Get out of this cab and FUCK him.  _ His eyes slid shut, lips parting as George rubbed him through his jeans. 

George pressed close, lips brushing against his ear. “You look good, Benjamin.” He growled. Ben felt his stomach drop into his shoes. His full name should not turn him on  _ this much.  _ Something about it cleared his mind until all he could think of was being bent over George’s strong lap and shown just how good he could be. A moan escaped his throat, high and desperate; just loud enough to catch the attention of the driver a brief moment. In normal circumstances, Ben would be mortified at the way he rolled his eyes in the rear view mirror, but he didn't give a  _ shit _ about anything right now. George’s palm was flat against his cock, rubbing his unforgivably tight jeans roughly against it. Every piece of Ben yearned for more contact. More. 

The cab rolled to a stop and George paused briefly to pay. The rain was still coming down hard, and Ben wished it was the only reason he sprinted towards the glass doors of George’s apartment building. His key was in the door in seconds, and they moved swiftly to the elevator. Ben’s heart skipped a beat as the doors slid open. Empty. Yes God it was empty. 

The next thing Ben felt was the cold press of the mirrored wall up against his back as George pinned him in place. He kissed him deeply, hands moving to rub against the line of Ben’s cock through his rain soaked jeans. “I was worried we’d be stuck in traffic and you’d make a mess in your boxers before we got here.” George panted, humor coloring his voice as he fondled Ben. Ben let out a breathy laugh, burying his face into the crook of George’s neck.

“I wouldn’t’ve.” 

 

George pulled back, amused. “Oh?” 

Ben smirked, pulling George back so their hips were flush against each other. He nodded.

“Because I'm not wearing any.” 

Watching George fall apart was intoxicating. Eyes dark, a low rumble escaping him just as the elevator doors opened. Not wasting time, George bent down and hooked his arms under Ben’s legs, lifting him off the ground. His door wasn't far, just down the hall, but George wasn't interested in putting Ben down for one second. Ben squealed as George shifted his weight, readjusting so that Ben was slung over his shoulder precariously. He could hear the jingle of keys, and the click of a lock opening. Ben giggled. From here he felt like more of a prize trophy, won and paraded in triumph. He loved it. 

“Ready?” George asked, dipping so that Ben didn't hit the top of the door frame. Ben laughed, moving to slam the door shut behind them. 

“Ready.” 

Ben would have loved to take a better look at the apartment, which appeared neat and homey, but the clap of a hand on his ass brought him back into the present.  _ The bedroom.  _ Mere moments and George had carried him in, letting him fall from his shoulders onto the neatly made bed. It was soft and springy, creaking as his weight hit it. 

Not wanting to waste time, Ben pulled his sweater off, working even quicker on the buttons of his shirt. This wasn't a big deal for him. George has seen him naked. His body was on display all the time, and George had had a front row seat long enough. Ben was more interested in George. Finally,  _ finally _ , seeing him. Getting a good long look at that cock he's felt through those pants for weeks. 

George seemed to catch on, opting to take his shirt off a bit too slow for Ben’s liking. Unacceptable behavior, and Ben (in all his naked glory) couldn't sit idly by. Kneeling on the bed, he tore at the buckle of George’s pants. A hand made its way to his hair, tangling in it. “Not so fast.” George said. “You can do it, just take your time.” 

Ben whimpered. At least George didn't stop him. Hands shaking, Ben let the belt slip out of its loops and dropped it on the floor. He counted to ten as he slowly undid the button to his jeans and worked the zipper down. The fabric sagged, and George helped Ben take them down. The jeans were kicked aside, and George was left in his tented boxers.

Ben took the moment George asked for, leaning back on his hands and heels to look him over. Tall, strong by all good standards. Ben admired the fine trail of hair that crept from his chest, down the gentle swell of his stomach, and into his black boxers. Not bad for a middle aged guy. He kept himself well, his thighs thick and muscular. Running. Maybe sports. Ben bit his lip and returned to his knees, fingers hooking the elastic of the waistband. There was one thing a good fitness routine couldn't make up for, and Ben was eager to get a closer look.

He knew what to expect. Ben had danced on it for weeks, felt him twitch and swell in his work slacks countless times, but  _ seeing  _ it? Ben wrapped a hand around the shaft, admiring how thick it felt in his hand. It twitched as he gave it a few long, slow strokes. George looked  _ really _ good. 

“ _ Ben _ …”

George’s hand returned to his hair, gently pulling on the scalp. Ben was aware of the needy grunts escaping him, causing his neck and face to flush. Teasingly, Ben slipped the head of his cock past his lips. George shuddered, hips moving to fill Ben’s mouth. He let him slide back, go as far as he could before his gag reflex kicked in. Ben felt heat pooling in his gut. This was only a little preview. The fullness testing the reach of his jaw was only a start. Ben wanted to be full. He exhaled slowly as the tip of his nose brushed the base of George’s cock. Looking up at him with lowered lids, Ben hoped it was enough to convey what he wanted. To be picked apart until he was a quivering mass of nothing. 

A tear pricked at the corner of his eye, and was diligently brushed away by George’s thumb. “Move back. Hands and knees.” He said, voice low. Ben pulled off his cock, jaw aching. He settled back into the bed, legs spread and ass up as George hopped on. He pulled a few things from his bed stand: some lube and a condom. Ben wiggled his toes with anticipation, watching George apply a little to his fingers. The first took time adjusting to, the lube still cold and his finger just a touch thicker than Ben had expected. Still, it beat stretching himself out. He pushed back onto George’s fingers, letting him go deeper. A little more push, a finger crooked on a way that made his toes curl. Two fingers became three, and the burning stretch set his nerves on fire. George moved his fingers in and out, watching intently as Ben arched his back, cock hanging heavy and untouched.

“That's a good boy” he praised, a rough hand reaching under to give his cock a squeeze. Ben jerked, face buried in the pillow, teeth tearing at it. This was too much. Too teasing. Too slow. He whimpered into the pillow, fists knotted in the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.

George’s fingers left him, and was replaced by a playful smack to his flank. “On your back.” Ben scrambled, smile wide as George propped him up with pillows, pausing to climb on top of him for a kiss. It was sweet and deep, causing his hips to roll up against Ben’s eagerly. Ben felt bubbly excitement well up in his chest, giggling as George pushed him back into the pillows. “You look gorgeous.” George moaned, making his way down his neck. The kissing continued, working until George’s lips were dancing over the sensitive juncture of his thigh. 

“ _ Oh god”  _ Ben sighed, mind falling to pieces as he felt the hot slick press of George’s tongue against his hole. More teasing. More slow, excruciating licks that promised Ben the world. His cock jumped as George’s tongue flitted over his hole. “ _ Please”  _ Ben begged. “ _ George just  _ fuck  _ me” _

George chuckled, straightening up. There were a few moments of quiet anticipation as Ben watched him tear open the foil of the condom, fitting it over himself before returning his attention to Ben. The first push in burned, stretching him to his limits. George paused as he sheathed, waiting for Ben’s approval.

Ben grasped at the sheets. “Fuck just  _ go--” _ he groaned, earning a laugh from George. It started slow, his cock working to fill Ben until he could push back. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, accompanied by Ben’s high moans, staccato cries that sounded with each thrust. It was a battle to keep his eyes open, and not have them roll into the back of his head. Ben wanted it all. He wanted to be here for this, to take in every little detail of George. How his eyes screwed shut, hands holding up his legs as he pumped into him. The way his brow sported a fine sheen of sweat, or how he bit his lip and groaned as he hit a sweet spot. The roll of his hips and stomach as he pulled in and out of Ben. 

But he also wanted to be lost in it. To close his eyes and let his mind dissolve into a puddle. The sound of skin slapping left his ears, leaving only his racing heartbeat and the wonderfully aching filling sensation he craved. He wanted George to keep going, to let him drift away and throw his head back as he drove deeper. 

“Ben I’m….”

Ben wanted to respond, and indeed he had been this entire time, his mouth moving and letting complete gibberish fall out. He wanted to tell George to  _ come _ . Fuck him hard and then keep on going. Yet each word was drawn out, interrupted by hiccupping gasps and moans, and then finished with a jumble of syllables that hardly made sense. As George pumped faster Ben forgot to beg, opting to twist his fists in the sheets above his head, pleasure mounting at the base of his spine and exploding in stars behind his lids. He felt his hot sticky release hit his chest and stomach, spurting once or twice as George finished up. He came with a ragged moan, one that clawed up from deep in his belly, and ended with him hunched over Ben, breaths staggered.

Ben opened his eyes slowly, George’s cock softening and retreating from him. It was a long few seconds, one where each of them took a good look at the other. Sweaty. Flushed. Rake marks across backs and shoulders. Their eyes locked, a spark passing between them as they caught their breath. Laughter. Light and airy, full of relief and excitement.

“That's…” George started. “That's a way I've never ended a museum date.” Ben smiled, a hand moving to cup George’s cheek.

“What can I say? You got me at the playful eroticism of rococo art.” George slapped his arm playfully, rolling off to lay beside Ben.

“Well then, what do you say we do this next week? There's an amazing exhibit on the post impressionist paintings I think you'd enjoy. We might even get rained out again.” 

Ben hummed, curling up under George’s arm. “That sounds delightful.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> More benwash can be found on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy
> 
> Feedback greatly appreciated. I live for attention and comments.


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